Because now he could hear clearly—someone over there was calling for help.

In just a few breaths, Grace Walker had already seen the crumbling city walls of Yanggu County. A middle-aged woman was running frantically toward him, and behind her, a fierce man in yellow, riding a wind-steed beast and wielding a long spear, was chasing her, sometimes closing in, sometimes falling back.

The man in yellow clearly wasn’t worried about his prey escaping; he was toying with her like a cat with a mouse, venting the malice in his chest.

“Mother! What happened in the city?”

Grace Walker’s eyes narrowed—he had already recognized that the middle-aged woman was Mrs. Sullivan, and his heart was suddenly filled with panic.

Seeing Grace Walker, Mrs. Sullivan suddenly froze, then did something almost unbelievable. She turned back, stopped running, and faced the charging wind-steed beast head-on, shouting loudly, “Son, run! Mother will hold off the bandit for you…”

Although the man in yellow hadn’t let his wind-steed beast run at full speed, its momentum was still tremendous—far more than an ordinary woman untrained in martial arts could possibly stop. Grace Walker watched as the wind-steed beast crashed into Mrs. Sullivan, trampling her under its four hooves. It was clear she wouldn’t survive.

“Run! Run…”

No one knew where she found the strength, but Mrs. Sullivan clung fiercely to the wind-steed beast’s hind leg, refusing to let go. The man in yellow flew into a rage, reversed his spear, and thrust it through Mrs. Sullivan’s chest. Blood spurted higher than a fountain, splattering everywhere.

Since arriving in this world, Grace Walker had constantly thought about how to keep himself alive, warning himself to avoid danger at all costs. Although Mrs. Sullivan treated him as her own son, he had never thought much of this uneducated, ignorant woman.

Just now, for a moment, he had indeed wanted to turn and run, to leave this woman who had nothing to do with him behind.

But in the instant Mrs. Sullivan’s blood splattered, Grace Walker’s eyes became wild and bloodshot like a beast’s. Only one thought remained in his mind—I am going to kill!

“Beast! Beast… beast!!!!!!”

The man in yellow who had killed Mrs. Sullivan hadn’t paid any attention to the little child Grace Walker, but in an instant, a monstrous aura of ferocity erupted from Grace Walker… as if a primordial fierce ape had returned to the world.

Chapter Eleven: When Grief Drives a Man Mad, He Becomes a Tiger

“White Moon Demon Clan! It’s the White Moon Demon Clan!”

The man in yellow was shocked, but quickly regained his composure, thinking to himself, “This child is actually of the White Moon Clan. If I capture him and sell him to a wealthy family in the capital, I’ll get at least several hundred taels of silver. I can’t let him go!”

Blinded by greed, the man in yellow felt the terrifying aura from Grace Walker, but thought, He’s only six or seven years old—how dangerous could he be? He immediately spurred his wind-steed beast forward, intending to capture him.

Although Mrs. Sullivan had already stopped breathing, her hands still clung tightly to the wind-steed beast’s hind leg. The beast’s four hooves were covered in blood. Grace Walker’s eyes were bloodshot, and all he could see was the head of the man in yellow.

The Central Plains and the Western Barbarians had fought many times, both sides with a tradition of capturing people from the other to use as slaves. The man in yellow saw how fast Grace Walker was running—no slower than the wind-steed beast—and knew the White Moon Demon Clan was famed for their speed, so he focused all his attention, afraid Grace Walker would escape.

Both sides charged at each other at great speed. Just as they were about to meet, in the man in yellow’s eyes, Grace Walker’s speed suddenly exploded, and his small body bounced off the ground, disappearing from sight.

Then, a tiny fist rapidly enlarged in his vision, heading straight for his face.

Because he wanted to capture Grace Walker alive, the man in yellow had slung his spear behind his back, and now it was too late to draw it. He could only raise his hand to block. When fist and palm met, Grace Walker’s hand was so small that his fist sank deep into the man’s palm.

The man in yellow cursed inwardly. Although he had trained in martial arts and was not weak, the icy, biting force coming from his palm was far beyond his imagination. Suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind, and he cried out, “Is this the Ten Directions Frozen Demon Art?”

Crack! The sound was crisp and clear.

This was the last thought the man in yellow ever had. Whether his soul would have the luck of Grace Walker and travel to another world, no one could say. But his body took on an unusually crystalline, translucent quality.

In just an instant, he had been frozen into an ice sculpture by the chilling true energy from Grace Walker. The overwhelming force that followed shattered the human-shaped ice sculpture into countless fragments.

In his fury, Grace Walker attacked without restraint, using the most reckless, forbidden moves of the martial world. Although he killed the man in yellow with one blow, he himself suffered as well—he spat out a mouthful of blood in midair, his internal organs badly shaken.

But as soon as he hit the ground, he climbed up and rushed to Mrs. Sullivan’s now-cold body. The wind-steed beast, its upper body frozen and still struggling, blocked his way. With a single palm strike to its neck, he sent the horse’s head flying, where it landed on the ground and split into several pieces.

“Mother!”

He had never considered this woman family, but in this moment, Grace Walker willingly cried out this name. As he wailed, blood kept foaming from his mouth, and the injuries he had just suffered grew even worse.